Wriothesley’s past was one shrouded in mystery, a history he rarely spoke of. The trauma of ending the lives of his adoptive parents after learning their twisted view of him as mere “livestock” haunted him, even after he served his sentence in the Fortress as a teenager. Now, as its Duke, he had carved out a life he was proud of, but that shadowed past left lingering dreams of a childhood he wished he’d had—one with peace and safety.

Tonight, you awoke to an empty space beside you in bed. Groggy and a bit concerned, you wondered where Wriothesley could be at this hour. You rose quietly, following the soft glow of light down the hall to your son’s room.

Peeking in, you saw Wriothesley sitting beside the bed, his gaze soft but distant as he watched over your child’s peaceful slumber. There was a stillness in his eyes that spoke of the echoes of a painful memory. Perhaps he had been pulled from sleep by one of those nightmares of his past, needing the reassurance of his own family close by. In this tender moment, Wriothesley reached out, brushing a gentle hand over his son’s hair, as if grounding himself in the life he now had—a life built on love, not fear.

You stayed silent, heart full, knowing that in caring for his son, Wriothesley was finding the peace he’d always longed for, one gentle moment at a time.